Family Business
by Alohilani
Summary: In which Wuya contacts another witch to ask for a healing.


It was a dank and misty day. Dizeria sat in the mouth of her cave, looking out into the gray and sipping her tea.

It was the kind of day a dragon or an adventurer or a dark witch would choose to show up on. None of those personages or anything like them had dropped by in over five hundred years, but Drizeria could dream. And it was easier to dream lately, after all the exciting news from China… the ancient order of Xiaolin Dragons returning to active duty, battles and flying dragons and _magic._

Of course, there were no ancient orders of English dragon-fighters or sorceress-defeaters. Dizeria didn't know what to hope for. Adventurers needed evil to defeat, after all, an evil less abstract and more immediate and tangible than political unfairness, world hunger, or moral decay. The Western dragons had been killed or fled underground long ago, Baba Yaga had vanished into the forest, and most of the dark witches had, like the dragons, either been killed or gone into hiding, some of them alone in their lairs, some of them masquerading as human women.

If knights, plucky children, desperate fairies, and their sidekicks started showing up on Dizeria's lawn, it would mean they needed help with something evil. Ergo, something evil would need to exist in the first place. Maybe things were better off the way they were.

As if this last thought had tempted fate, that was the moment she caught sight of the tall figure approaching through the mist. Her heart started pounding and she got halfway to her feet. A knight? A youth? A witch?

The figure came closer. It was a woman, a woman at least six feet tall, wearing a thick cloak and sunglasses that hid her features.

"Greetings, traveller!" Dizeria called, with a graceful sweep of her sleeves. The gauzy, delicate fabric of her white dress was specially enchanted not to become sodden and slimy from the mist. "Rest yourself."

"You can cut the act," the woman called. "It's me."

Dizeria's heart fell in her chest as she recognized the voice of the most notorious bad witch in Asia. "Wuya. Why do you come here?" She pulled herself up perfectly straight. "I will not join your conflict, dark sister. I am on the side of good and cannot be bribed."

Wuya was tense through the shoulders and her lips were pale. Her tone was short. "I'm here to ask for a healing."

Dizeria raised an eyebrow. "You're wounded?" The healing spells of a white enchantress did not always have a pleasant effect on an evil creature like Wuya.

"Not for me, for a child."

"A child?" It was not like Wuya to ask for favors on the behalf of others. "Is he yours?"

"_No." _She shuddered. "Ew."

Dizeria had not paid _too _much attention to the tales she had heard of the Xiaolin, as this far away from the conflict most or all of the stories she heard were badly distorted and mostly false by the time they reached her. But there were some elements to the tales that were common to all of them and therefore likely had some truth. One such element was that Wuya had taken on an on-again off-again minion, sometimes said to be a ghoul or a ghost, sometimes a vampire, and sometimes… a human teenager.

Dizeria wondered what manner of teenage boy would be so foolish as to hang around Wuya… probably the same manner of boy that could manage to be mistaken for a ghoul. She also wondered what Wuya's angle was. Wuya had no love for anything or anybody but Wuya. "Then what sort of child has you so concerned, dark sister? Is this some kind of emperor's son?"

Wuya was trembling. "All you need to know is he's human and wounded," she spat. "I know you can't refuse to help a human."

Dizeria shook her head. "I am not bound to help humans. I can refuse whoever I wish to refuse." That said, of course she wouldn't refuse a human who honestly needed help, but it wouldn't do to be too eager. Maybe instead of a human who could somehow be confused with a monster, this was a monster that could pretend to be human, and Wuya was lying.

"You insufferable goody-two-shoes. Just take a look at him and _then _tell me no."

This could be a trap. However, there was no _reason _for Wuya to come all the way to the British Isles to trap an enchantress with no interest in the Xiaolin-Heylin war and not much magic that went beyond healing and the ability to tell people a cryptic riddle about how to defeat a dragon. Dizeria couldn't imagine any reason why she'd be of any help to Wuya _or _the Xiaolin monks. That, and Wuya was genuinely stressed out about something, it showed on her face. "All right," she said, on the off chance that there really was a wounded human around that needed her help. "I'll look."

She took her dark sister-in-magic's hand and they took a step backwards together. There was a strange pulling in Dizeria's chest as Wuya pooled their magic for a translocation spell. She did not try to take any more magic than Dizeria freely allowed to her.

The smells around Dizeria changed from the brisk, cool, fresh mist of the countryside to the warm, stuffy reek of blood and fear. Dizera knew before she opened her eyes or heard the frightened cry of a young man that Wuya had told the truth.

They were in a dark room with black walls and shades over the windows. Judging from the metal-band posters on the walls and the dirty clothes everywhere it was the boy's bedroom. He was lying on the bed, staring at Dizeria with a look of pain and terror that went straight to her heart. His face was chalk white with black markings under his eyes, and his hair was a garish shade of red. That explained how he'd been mistaken for a ghoul.

"Jack, this is Dizeria. She'll help you. You can stop being so neurotic," Wuya told him, in a voice that was clearly meant to be callous.

Dizeria swept closer to Jack. "Do not fear," she said. "I am a white enchantress." She laid two fingertips on the back of his hand. She could sense the wound underneath a wrapping of bloody bandages. It was a deep one, made by a sharp piece of metal. Perhaps he had been stabbed?

Other, less severe wounds dotted his body where smaller pieces of metal had hit him in the shoulders, arms, and face. He had a few burns, too. She guessed that he must have been in an explosion of some kind and these were shrapnel wounds. The large wound was likely just from a big piece of shrapnel.

He was also very frightened, and her touch, which calmed all normal mortal beings, was only making him uneasy, clashing with something in his spirit. Her eyebrows rose. "Wuya, o teller of falsehoods. This child isn't fully human."

The blank look Wuya gave her could not be faked. "What are you talking about?"

"Who are you?" the boy sobbed. "Of course I'm human!"

Huh. "I am Dizeria, and I am here to help you," she said in a soothing tone, removing her hand. "Be still." She turned to Wuya. "I'll need things for a potion. Call the-"

"I'll get the things," Wuya said with a dismissive wave.

Dizeria frowned. She was unaccustomed to being interrupted. "But they are in difficult places, and-"

"I've spent the last two years on Dashi's stupid little treasure hunt. I can get herbs."

"It will be a quest-"

"I have a jet."

"My herbs are white magic."

"I have gloves."

Dizeria frowned. "There are four ingredients. It would be much more proper to call the Xiaolin Monks-"

Wuya scoffed. "You good people think your side is the only one that can get anything done. I have more magic in one finger than the monks have in their whole bodies. Besides, they hate Jack."

Dizeria was quiet for a moment. This sort of thing was not _done. _This was a quest, and should be given to heroes. Still, the child had seeds of black magic in his heart, and it was possible that her healing might not have… the proper effect. If Wuya handled the ingredients, they would have her taint on them. In this unique situation, that could be a very good thing.

"Fine." She pulled a scroll out of her pocket and dashed off the names of the herbs. Wuya would also know where to get them without being told, since they grew near her evil herbs.

She handed Wuya the scroll.

"Wuya-" Jack whimpered. He pronounced it 'Wu-yuh' instead of 'Wu-yah'. Dizeria wondered how this little quirk had been allowed to go uncorrected. "You're leaving?"

Wuya didn't meet his eyes. "I'll be back soon, be good for Dizeria."

"But-"

Wuya left the room. Dizeria was now alone with this injured, frightened boy who was instinctively wary of her. He was crying.

"I'm not afraid of you!" he lied, wiping his face with his sleeve. He was, she guessed, about 90% human, enough that she could see right through him as if he were completely human. But there was that worrisome 10%. What was it- ghoul, ghost, vampire, witch?

Likely witch. Few humans would marry ghouls, and if vampires took human lovers they soon tired with them and ate them.

"Good," she said. She took a salve out of her purse. "This will keep you from losing more blood. Hold still."

She dabbed the goop onto his forehead. He took in a hissing breath. The salve was causing him a mild burning sensation. It wasn't supposed to do that. "Ow," he whined.

"Child, where are your parents?"

"I don't know." He coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A smear of blood appeared on his knuckles. "I told Wuya to just call a real doctor! Now she's off on some dumb quest!" It hurt him to talk, but he was apparently determined to have his say anyway. "She never... she never listens to me. I hope she's proud of herself. You know... when I'm dead." He flopped back down on the pillow. "She'll probably take all my stuff."

"You would have preferred a human doctor?" Dizeria sniffed. "A 'doctor' who would stick you full of needles and wires and cut you to pieces?"

Jack's eyes got very round. "Well-"

"Humans know nothing about healing." She looked away.

"Well, what are _you _going to do then, give me _soup?"_

"Basically. And it'll work, too."

He rolled his eyes. "Why don't you go around fixing everybody then, if we're so bad at it?"

Dizeria looked down at the carpet. "My magic binds me. I can only help those who come to me and request it."

"Oh, that's lame." He shuddered.

"Are your parents evil?" she asked.

"No, they're lame too." Hm. They couldn't be paragons of goodness, though, if they left their son alone to blow himself up. _"I'm_ evil!" He brightened up. "And so's gramma." He coughed.

"I see," she said. Well, sometimes the innate goodness from the wholly human parent overrode the evil, or it skipped a generation. "Rest now. Don't speak."

"Mmhmm," Jack mumbled. Dizeria could sense most human emotions but not their thoughts- unless their thoughts were as loud and clear as Jack's thought of _That's crazy healer lady talk for_ _'Shut up, Jack.'_

Correcting him would likely frighten him. She held her tongue.

Most witches had sisters- at first. These witches, if they were evil, would often steal their sisters' powers, and of course witches in general had a tendency to meet nasty fates. Witch broods could start off with numbers of six or seven and be quickly whittled down to only one, the strongest. Had Wuya had sisters? Had one of them fallen for a handsome human before- or after- dropping off the radar?

Pure speculation, and likely not true, but blood ties between magical creatures were strange, and Jack and Wuya would certainly be able to, on some level, sense a familial bond to each other, however weak and diluted that bond might be. He would be- what- her ten-generations-removed nephew? Unlikely, but it would explain why she was going to such lengths to keep him alive.

"What did you mean when you said I wasn't human?" he asked. "I'm human, aren't I?"

She hesitated. "Mostly."

He stared at her. "Mostly?"

"There was a magical creature in your ancestry somewhere."

His whole face lit up. "Cool!" He frowned. "How do you know that?"

"I can sense these things. I'm an enchantress."

"Oh, sweet. Do I have awesome powers of darkness? I've always, you know, kinda felt like I might have hidden awesome powers of darkness."

Humans or mostly-humans always asked her something like that. Usually after a botched healing. 'Forsooth, milady, doth I now possess strange abilities?' The answer was usually "No."

"Oh." His face fell and he turned away, trying to find a comfortable position. Her salve had numbed his pain- rather more slowly than it was supposed to- and now he wanted to sleep.

There was a folding chair next to his bed. She wondered if Wuya had been using it. She sat down in it, quietly waiting for the child to go to sleep.

He didn't, though. He kept giving her nervous looks. There was a stranger in his bedroom and he seemed naturally skittish. Her usual calming effect was not working on him, thanks to his dubious ancestry.

"I like your bedroom," she lied. It was dark and messy and made her feel ill at ease.

"Oh, thanks," he sighed. "It's not really ready for visitors, though. Now, if you saw my lair, _then_ you'd be impressed."

"I see." He had a 'lair'. He reminded her of a young dragon hatchling- a Western dragon, the kind that hoarded treasure. When they got old enough to breathe fire they suddenly became very proud of themselves and would develop the first stages of kleptomania. They usually started looking for caves to start their collections in. They were cheerful and energetic until they got old enough to develop undying hatred towards all other living creatures. She wondered what this boy would be like when he grew up…

And then of course she wondered if, in the grand scheme of things, she should be helping him. But then he glanced over at her with big, morose eyes and she knew she couldn't leave him.

She imagined a poetic future scenario where this little boy had grown up to be a ruthless evil emperor, and Dizeria was forced to tell a passing hero looking for the key to his defeat that she had once saved his life. 'And he was so young and unhappy and vulnerable then, and even though I could sense the seeds of darkness in his soul, I had no choice but to-"

"Do you have any food?"

She started out of her reverie. "Oh. No, child, I don't."

"Could you get me an energy bar from the kitchen?"

"In your current condition, I don't think it wise for you to eat."

He looked crestfallen. "But I'm hungry!"

"You'll make yourself sick. Go to sleep."

He pouted and tried to find a comfortable position. He closed his eyes and the time passed.

The passage of time was different for a magical creature like Dizeria, thousands of years old. To her it seemed the next blink of an eye that Wuya burst back in, wet, scowling, and bearing rolls of white bandages on her hands. She had a sack of herbs.

"Here," she spat, tossing the sack at Dizeria, who deftly and gracefully snatched it from the air. "Those had better work."

"I thank you for your aid, dark sister."

Wuya rolled her eyes.

Dizeria went into the house's kitchen. (She had the ability to sense where the kitchen was in any house she visited. It was another one of those abilities she had that didn't really help anyone but herself.) She pulled out a pot and set it on the stove, dropping her herbs in and adding water. She set it to boil.

"How long is this going to take? I don't have all day," Wuya snapped.

"Patience," Dizeria said, stirring her concoction.

She had a sudden flash of inspiration. She turned to Wuya. "I require a single one of your hairs," she said.

From the look on Wuya's face you would have thought she'd been asked to sacrifice her firstborn child. "One of _my _hairs?" She laughed. "One of my hairs could power five of my rock children and you just want it for free?"

"Do you want to save your familiar?" Dizeria said.

Wuya went very quiet. "He's not my familiar, he's just an evil friend. He's not even a friend. He's… he's _Jack._" She grunted in disgust and plucked out a hair with an exaggerated wince.

"Thank you, dark sister." Dizeria took the hair and dropped it into the mixture. There was a puff of smoke and a truly revolting smell. Dizeria coughed.

The mixture was allowed to boil for precisely seven seconds before Dizeria turned it off and allowed it to cool. She took out exactly a thimbleful and carried it back into Jack's bedroom. She poured it directly into the wound on his chest and then watched with bated breath. She could sense Wuya standing behind her, waiting.

Jack exhaled slowly without waking. The wound began to gradually shrink.

Wuya let out a deep breath. The magic was working exactly the way it was supposed to.

"Freeze the rest of the mixture and use it if he hurts himself again," Dizeria said.

"All right." Wuya sounded suddenly disgusted. "I suppose you want one of our precious Shen Gong Wu as payment-"

"I require no payment," Dizeria said. "The easing of pain is its own reward."

Wuya looked as if she thought that was even worse. Dizeria doubted she really would have coughed up any Shen Gong Wu regardless- not without a showdown, at least, and Dizeria just wasn't interested in going through all that. "All right, fine."

"I take my leave of you now," Dizeria said with a sweeping bow. "Contact me if there is any unexpected trouble."

"Sure," Wuya said, leaning over Jack and squinting at him.

Dizera glided out of the room.

Without Wuya's help she didn't have enough magic to teleport, so she traveled home in a bubble. It was trite, but comfortable.

Wuya would not have given a straight answer if Dizeria had flat-out asked her what use the boy was to her. Jack had not seemed like a powerful ally, just a rather strange young human... and surely Wuya wasn't capable of forming affection towards other living things, especially mortals.

The situation was odd and interesting, but really none of Dizeria's business. She would stay out of it... maybe pay closer attention to the rumors she heard about the Xiaolin and Heylin. If she felt very ambitious she might contact Dojo Kanojo-Cho for a chat sometime... but she probably wouldn't.

Chances were she would go back to her solitary existence, waiting, hoping for the day when someone would need her again. She was glad she had never been forced into a small container for three thousand years, like Wuya. Evil had heavy consequences.

Maybe she'd hit upon Wuya's reason for making sure Jack was kept alive.

Maybe Wuya had just wanted to make sure she wasn't left alone again.


End file.
